


Let Me Worry About You

by anythingpastorpresent



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Fluff, M/M, Post-Episode: s08e23 Sacrifice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 11:23:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11508405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anythingpastorpresent/pseuds/anythingpastorpresent
Summary: Sam's not dying anymore.





	Let Me Worry About You

**Author's Note:**

> So I found this with a bunch of old stuff and to be honest, I barely remember writing it. I think maybe it was for a prompt on tumblr? I'm pretty sure it takes place after Sacrifice.

Sam's not dying anymore.

Sam's not dying, but Dean seems to think he is, or that he will if Dean takes even so much as a moment for himself, but Sam is too weak to protest, so he lets Dean baby him. And he'd be lying if he said he minded.

It's been years since Sam's had a bath (voluntarily, at least) but Dean doesn't ask him when they get back to the bunker, just sits Sam down on the couch, makes sure he's propped up enough that he won't fall over, and runs off before Sam can say anything. When Dean comes back, he's lost his jacket and shoes, and Sam leans on him all the way to the bathroom.

When Dean has him stripped of his dirty, sweaty clothes, Sam sinks down into the nearly-too-hot water and sighs, leaning his head back. He feels a hand come up to stroke his hair off his face, but doesn't open his eyes.

After a few minutes, he opens his eyes and trains them on his brother. "Dean what are we gonna do?"

Dean knows exactly what Sam's referring to, Sam can see it in his face, but he doesn't betray any emotion. "I don't know, Sammy," he says quietly, dipping his hands into the water and pouring a handful over Sam's hair, says, "We'll think of something."

A moment later, "Let me worry about you."

Sam relaxes while Dean washes him, and it should be awkward, having his thirty-four year old brother bathe him like he's a child, but it's soothing, relaxing, and he hums contentedly when Dean's soapy hands stroke across his chest.

Sam starts when he hears the water start to drain from the tub, having drifted off for a moment, and Dean helps him get out of the bathtub and dry off.

They move (Sam staggers, Dean walks) toward a bedroom (Dean's, Sam thinks, though it looks cleaner than the last time he saw it), and it's really unfair of Dean to push Sam onto the bed like he does, seeing as how Sam can barely stand on his own, but that's what Dean does, and Sam stares at the ceiling until he feels a hand brush his ankle. He lifts his head to look.

"Put your leg in, sasquatch," Dean says, holding open a leg of a pair of boxers, and Sam complies, feeling yet again like a child while his big brother dresses him, but he doesn't think he has the energy to do anything by himself right now.

They repeat the process of Dean holding openings of clothing to Sam's limbs and Sam shrugging his muscles in a (hopefully) helpful way until Sam has a (Dean's, possibly) t-shirt on, but Sam stops him when Dean tries to put socks on his brother's feet.

"You know I hate sleeping with socks, Dean," he mumbles as he crawls toward the pillows stacked at the head of the bed.

Dean tugs at the comforter until Sam can wriggle underneath it. "Just didn't want you to get cold, bitch. See if I help you anymore."

Sam finds the strength to smirk back and say, "Jerk."

Dean stands there looking a little lost, and Sam would never admit that it's cute, but it's cute.

"Need anything else, Sammy?"

Sam kicks one leg out from the blanket in an attempt to create an invitation. "Just sleep."

"Should probably eat something." Sam can hear the indecision in Dean's voice.

"M' tired, Dean. Just want you. Need you." He pats the empty space next to him so as not to have his meaning misconstrued (though if Dean wants to misconstrue him in the morning, maybe twice, Sam's looking forward to waking up). "C'mon, sleep."

Sam's eyes are closed, so he doesn't see exactly when his brother makes the decision, but the bed sinks to his left and he shifts to give Dean more room. Arms knock into his body, trying to find their way around him, and he seeks out the comfort, burrowing into his big brother's warmth.

Sam's a little delirious, so he feels perfectly justified noting that his head fits perfectly in the crook between Dean's shoulder and neck, and if Dean laughs because Sam maybe said that out loud, well. They're both tired and they'll likely forget it in the morning.

What Sam won't forget is the press of lips to his forehead and the softly murmured, "Love you so much, Sammy."

Or the "Love you too," he mumbles back before letting his body drift into much needed rest.


End file.
